A riot of peacock color

“For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.” David Herbert Lawrence

It was most unexpected, pulling into a tiny roadside station to fill up the MX-5, and spending a half hour chatting with a hawker of peacock feathers. He was sitting on a picnic table, surrounded by containers of feathers, the blues and greens gorgeous in the mid-afternoon sun. While he and Dave talked about sports cars (he loved the brilliant red-orange of my little roadster), I turned my lens toward the riot of color.

I always thought peacocks would be a perfect addition to our little farm. One of our neighbors has a large flock, but also has an aviary for them. I expect ours would make themselves at home on the front porch and patio, where the afternoon sun is the warmest. I wonder if their nocturnal screams would deter the wandering coyotes in our valley. Somehow, I suspect the two species would give each other a wide berth.

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